Mergers and Acquisitions
by ichi.ruki
Summary: Two-shot, EWE. AU/AR Facing their own personal demons, our favoirte pairing has an odd habit of running into each other outside the office. What happens when they discover a merger outside the workplace is more beneficial than going it alone?
1. Mergers

**Disclaimer: Ok, We know how it goes, no money being made here, believe me, and there is no copyright infringement intended. See, let's play nice and read the wonderful little story I've put together, ok? Also intended for mature audiences, under a certain age of viewing status where you live? Yeah, do me a favor and follow your laws.  
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Mergers

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"Who'd want a divorced woman? No!" Hermione slurred, correcting herself, "I'm sorry, a divorced woman with two kids!"

"You think that's all of your problems now?" Draco drawled, nursing what was left of his expensive single malt.

He ignored her silent glowering. "Now, let me tell you about mine. All have you know, I have a wife whose going to drag this out till she bleeds me dry, and in the meantime is filling my only son's head with silly notions that the Malfoy name can usher in the next era of Pureblood supremacy, because that's a vacant slot that's been filled so well. She's totally unsatisfied by my work in the Ministry, because _oh no_, that would be too _normal_, too _ordinary_ a way to go about getting power – a _commoner's way_ if you ask her."

"Well, you have to admit, it is odd that we sort of work together on occasion, don't you think? I mean people like your wife aren't too cheesed that I'm where I'm at in the Ministry, all up close in personal in their power. I mean you have to have people to subjugate, and if these 'perceived subordinates' are in positions of power too, well that's messing with the evil agenda! Hence the drastic, perhaps one might even say, genocidal measures." Hermione shrugged as if this immutable fact happened to be a part of her everyday operations still, despite how long the war had been over.

She was sipping on her fifth fruity and rum-based concoction, feeling wonderful for it at the moment, save the fact she had Malfoy to keep her company. Her mind was spinning, and her tongue felt like fire tonight; well, until she met up with him again, and quite by accident too. They sometimes had a way of finding each other like this, and lately it was becoming too frequent an occurrence for her tastes.

"Don't interrupt, it's rude." Draco cut back. Sneering lightly at his drink, not even bothering at looking up to reproach his sometimes co-worker, and sometimes-drinking companion, he pushed on, "As I was saying, before you interrupted my rant, especially after you went on, and on about Weasley never wanting to touch you – "

Hermione gasped, "When did I – Malfoy, you arse, I've said no such thing!"

Pretending he didn't hear her, he went back to frowning over his drink, pausing mid sip to let her know what he was really thinking, "She wants drama, she wants power, and she wants to use our son to make it all happen. The boy's barely out of his nappies, off attending Hogwarts as a Second Year. How can a mother presume to burden her son like that – especially since she knows what it's like, how my own father – "

Looking quite sour, he slammed his drink down as if the things that really ate at him refused to drown themselves just for the night. He wasn't asking much, just a few hours to not think so heavily on his problems.

Hermione sighed, resting her wobbly head on one hand. Turning on her seat to better face Draco, she leaned over a little before she sloppily patted his arm.

"There, there."

Shrugging off the comforting gesture, Draco scowled, "I'm a ranking official now in my Department, and how could I not be with all those convictions I helped to secure! If I play my cards right, I will secure the next nomination for Deputy Minister of Magic when Franklin leaves the post. And who knows, if I secure that position, while honorific in title, who's to say Minister of Magic is completely out of my league? How is that not enough for her?"

Looking up at her petulantly, he added snappishly, "And who would have thought that those little Greengrass bints went deeper than Glamour magic when it came to their Dark Arts?"

"Oh." said Hermione, her face scrunching up. She couldn't place the reference, "Uh?"

Not that she was about to admit it to him, but she didn't know of any Dark Glamours! It wasn't part of her area of expertise. Granted she didn't know, or use much of the regular Glamours either, but now he had her intrigued.

"Psychological Glamours are Astoria's specialty, you know. The torture that one could do with a poor sod like Potter," He sighed wearily, batting the shot glass back and forth between his hands, all without spilling a drop of his precious liquor.

"There was a reason she was sorted into Slytherin, and now we've come to divorce. And she intends to really sink her claws in," he nearly growled, his gazing nearly burning holes in the wood of the bar, "but I think she's going to find that even with her claws that the Malfoy name is a slippery one!"

Hermione only listened half-interestedly, not remotely paying attention to the sear pattern her blonde companion was currently impressing upon the bar. It occurred to her he was doing a lot more talking than any of the other times they happened to stumble haphazardly into the same tavern as the each other.

"Oh, Malfoy, Malfoy, Draco." Hermione breezed, smiling in a not unkind manner, "Welcome to the club!"

"Some sodding welcoming reception you are!" He sniffed disdainfully, his back straightening slightly as remembered who he was, and more importantly, to whom he was talking to.

Leaning over as far as her unbalanced arms would let her, Hermione proffered a sympathy hug.

"I can hug you if you want." She laughed, brimming with giggles, "I mean, it's not a luau style confessional, that's for sure, otherwise I'd have to give you a lei."

Draco wasn't the picture of sobriety himself, but he noted that she was really quite smashed. He merely raised an eyebrow at the silly witch before him.

"I mean, it's not a luau, despite what the umbrella in my drink maybe saying about the theme of tonight's party!" Her laughter tinkling as she jingled the fruity beverage at him, knocking the umbrella swizzle stick with a Boar's Head on the paper, back and forth, causing the poor animal to squeal in fear.

He noted that some of it happened to be sloshing over the sides. He supposed it was better than having her down the whole thing, as she was being quite ridiculous enough already. And blast that infernal squealing!

Ignoring what she assumed was his look of confusion, she pressed on, "Otherwise I'd give you lei, or the equivalent of something like it."

Draco was still unsure just what was wrong with her. Just how low was her alcohol tolerance anyways? Did she even know what she was spouting off with?

Searching around, as if struck by a brilliant idea, she spotted the perfect welcoming gift for their situation.

"Hmmm - here," she said shoving her bowl of peanuts at him, "Welcome to club, Mr. Malfoy. Your merger has officially begun the process of dissolution."

Draco sighed, this insufferable little witch, she was down right confusing. What fancy club was he a part of now, the lonely hearts one!

At the sound of his annoyed sigh, Hermione bit out, "Well, I'm all out of flowery leis, you git! I mean, look at me! Do I look like I'm lei producing machine?"

"I doubt you're drunk enough to do that." He sighed, although he did note that chasing after a bit of skirt didn't sound all that bad. It'd been so long since the last time he tried, and there was no time like the present to get back in the game.

"Do you even know what a luau is?" She asked, before smacking her forehead, "Dear Gods, Malfoy! I take back my hug offer, you pervert."

He hadn't even thought of doing that with her, but he did think it was interesting that's what she decided to accuse him of tonight. When they sometimes met up like this, and she was in a snit, she would often level random accusations at him. Once he was indirectly accused of being responsible for the phenomenon of missing socks, and other subversive Pureblood agenda non-sense. As if hiding one half to a pair of socks was the way to go about overthrowing the world, the imagination that one had, brilliant, but a tad overworked these days.

"Do you know what we really ought to do?" He asked.

"Really, if you are going to suggest we Apparate to my flat to shag, you're so going to be wearing my drink, and it's not because I can make myself puke on you at will. Oh, no! It's because you'll have made me that sick." She complained brazenly before sipping down the rest of the fruity drink.

"In the morning you're going to see my point, Granger, that is if you aren't too comatose to notice, or irreparably brain damaged to remember. Seeing I was going to suggest we take the Knight Bus home. I think you're much to drunk to Apparate safely." Draco said, slamming his hand down in an effort to get through to his dismally wasted acquaintance.

"And I don't need to feed into Astoria's delusions of grandeur." Draco said very irritably, "And while, I'd be down one enemy, unfortunately your accident and my association with you prior to it would only serve to give my other much scarier enemies a little too much Fiendfyre to torch my arse with all over the front pages of The Prophet, especially come the nominations for Deputy Minister! I mean, my past is spotty enough as it is. I don't really need your help blemishing it."

"Pssh" was all she cared to answer. Her hand flippantly waving him off, as if he were a fly buzzing about her head, and now that she thought about it, he was like an evil fly who was now trying to distract her from enjoying her relaxing beverages.

Also who was he to suggest that any association with her could be considered bad press? Well, outside of her coming to harm that is, she supposed he had a meager point there.

"Please, having me on your side publicly would do more for you than even the hardcore Purebloods, and Ass-toria would like to admit."

She had a point he conceded silently. Waving down the elf at the bar, she motioned for the creature to send two more of the Happy Hour specials down their way.

"Draco, why do you sit here with me?"

"Because you don't - " he sighed, not knowing how to respond to that simple question.

So instead he lied, "You talk a lot, and sometimes I just need to hear something drone on, like white noise, you know?"

Running his hand through his hair, before resting on his elbows again, he looked morosely into his nearly empty shot glass.

"But you don't really like me," Hermione pouted, "so I'm failing to see how of all the friends you have, and I know you have many, why I am the acceptable choice to listen to? I mean really, in your entire entourage, I rank??"

"You rank." He murmured, before throwing back the rest of his drink as he saw the leathery elf advance upon them with the next round.

"Well, just don't tell anyone at work, it'll take away from our credibility. People seem to think we never socialize outside a case. And until very recently, they were not wrong."

Hermione smiled, tipping the elf, before laying her lips to the straw to thirstily down whatever creamy concoction she indulged in now.

"Do you have to do that?" He complained.

"Hmm, do what?" She said, licking up some of the creamy drink that had transfered from her straw to the tips of her fingers.

"Do you have to suck your straw like that, it's unsightly."

Actually, he thought it was completely the opposite.

"And there's a polite way to drink from a straw?" She said, irritation lacing her voice. She huffed, and went back to doing what she pleased, how she pleased. If he didn't like it, he could leave.

"You don't use a straw, that's how." His voice clearly trying to convey that it was the obvious answer.

"Don't! If this is the part where you turn back into an evil troll, either drink that down, and become more tolerable again, or alternatively you _can_ leave."

"Why should I leave, I was here first!" He railed indignant.

Eyes narrowing, she pointed a finger at him, aware that the room was slightly spinning now.

"You don't want me to splinch myself do you?" She accused.

"Again, I submit plan A. The Knight Bus."

"What's plan B?" He was confusing her with pseudo-logic, she was sure of it.

"Don't you remember? Plan B is your plan." He said silkily.

"Was it the hug?" She asked truly perplexed.

"Oh, you know - I think I do fancy a lay now." He smiled, it was genuine and predatory all at once, "Do you happen to know where I could get one of those, Granger?"

"What, a lei?"

"Yes, a lay."

"Are we speaking in code, Malfoy? Is there a thing here can you see that I can't?" Whispering now, she leaned in, "And is this how we are going to talk about it? It isn't Harry is it? Tell me he did not follow me here!"

At the extremely annoyed look on Draco's face, she gasped, "Oh, he's right be behind me isn't he! That shite! I told him I wouldn't hear anything he had to say on the subject, really the nerve!"

Before she could turn around to chew out her not-really-there friend, Draco deftly grabbed her upper arm, causing her to look at him.

"What the bloody hell!" She cried, jerking back, only to stop when she caught the look in his eyes. It was disarming.

"Stop playing, I don't want to play tonight. I'd wanted to drown my sorrows away, and it's not working. Talking to you isn't working much either, so I figure the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else!"

Bugger that last drink, he shouldn't have down it like that! He should have paced himself much better than this! That didn't sound nearly as good as it had in his head, it sounded like a rather lame pick up line.

"I hardly think that's what you need." She scoffed, not taking anything he was saying seriously. "Besides, we don't _actually_ like one another, and if that weren't reason enough, again we work together, sort of. Oh, and also, we aren't technically divorced quite yet." She pointed at him again, as if tacking on an after note.

Pointing towards herself again, she ground out, "I'm still waiting on Ron to sign the papers!"

Then jabbing him in the chest, she pointed out again, "And you've yet to actually serve them to Ass-toria. It would be so tacky and scandalous if it ever got out. Really you should know – "

She was cut off with a soft kiss, she hadn't even seen it coming. And while it wasn't the tingle of the kiss itself that shocked her, it was the fact he was being gentle about it.

_Turn a girl's world upside down, why don't you!_

She'd expected him to be a whiny brute, someone who wanted to bully his partner into submission. She did not expect soft, slightly parted lips, and he didn't taste all that bad either. This wasn't a good sign, at least as far as she could tell.

People with good tasting saliva made OK kissers, as clearly they didn't taste gross and thus overcame one hurdle, but once that wormy tongue of his came out, which it didn't, Hermione was sure that it would wiggle flaccidly against hers, thereby ruining whatever pleasures she was experiencing now.

Sitting back now, Malfoy gave her a quiet look of contemplation. She seemed to be flustered, and he couldn't help smirking. There was also the added bonus that whenever she called Astoria, Ass-toria, well, it made his heart flutter a little. Blasted drinks, he was finding that the renowned Hermione Granger, soon-to-be ex-Weasley, was quite the attractive proposition right now. If he was going to be honest, which he hardly ever was these days, he'd have to admit that he never really did see her fitting in with that lot.

"Oh, make no mistake, I don't really like you either, and this is why it's going to be ok." He finally announced, his mind settled on what needed to happen next.

Something in the way he phrased it, made Hermione think that he might be on to something after all. Or that her positive agreement could have came from her unbridled lust, it'd been too long for her, and warmth ached between her thighs at the prospect of fulfilling a naughty fantasy of hers.

"Actually, it is perfect isn't?" She agreed with him. He made some sense to her just then, in that she realized that he was the perfect distraction. And if Ron ever found out then all the better!

That would teach him to flirt after all the girls, and stay out till late hours, and ruin their marriage because he wanted a lifestyle she could never indulge in. She wouldn't become a swinger for him, but it didn't mean he wanted to stay married to her if she didn't change her mind. The sad thing is Ronald thought he could convince her. He really believed that she would come around, that she would see that being sweet-hearts at a tender age had robbed them of experimenting like the rest of their friends had gotten a chance to do.

Now with the kids gone to Hogwarts for most of the year, Ron had made it clear that this is how he intended to spend the next parts of his adult life. And he expected her to fall in line eventually, and the gall of that damn Weasley! Did he just think he could cheat on her until she saw things his way? It certainly wasn't mapping the territory before she joined him in his excursions, as Ron had put it, more like blatant unapologetic cheating. As if it being out in the open finally made it ok, wasn't marrying another Gryffindor supposed to guarantee a marriage's fidelity?

Her anger settling a bit, she realized that if it didn't work out with Draco, she already disliked him, so what was there to lose? Friendship hardly! A drinking companion – as if! They'd only done this a few times, and all of it platonic, at least till now.

Completely unaware of what was going on inside her head, Draco sat back on his seat trying to over come several levels of shock.

"What?" He blurted out. He wasn't quite sure he'd heard her correctly.

Draco thought it had been a quick reversal of tune for her. She was so bloody stubborn most times, especially when it came to him; it couldn't have been that easy!

"I'm agreeing you idiot." She drawled, suckling at her drink again.

Hermione decided she was going to need more of her libations if she was going to go through with this half-cracked idea. Though she was loathed to admit to herself that she'd always wanted to know what it would be like to shag the infamous Draco Malfoy. Guiltily, she had to concede that on more than one occasion she had actually fantasized about having him between her thighs on his desk for a special overnight session of Inter-departmental collaboration.

"Sweet talk a fellow, Granger?" He snorted, downing the rest of his drink, before he seemingly conjured a few Galleons out of thin air. He really wished she didn't lick the creamy foam off the straw like that. It was drawing several leers. Although not his own, he did not leer, he simply admired. That's what it was when a Malfoy did something that might be considered something as a common, or as creepy as a "leer".

Hermione noted suspiciously that he paid more than enough to cover their tabs, and tip the elf. She looked at him warily, and he winked at her. That was decidedly creepy; he never winked at her!

"Why have you always called me Granger, even while I was married, did you see something I couldn't?" She huffed, resigning herself to playing along for now. If she wanted ruin the illusion, she'd just up and leave. And right now he wasn't making her feel lonely, so she supposed she could stay a few more minutes.

"Pretty much, Granger." He quipped amusedly. He'd heard of Weasley's infidelities long before Granger had discovered them. The first he heard of it had been when Weasley had shagged Pansy Flint nee Parkinson.

"How do you want to do this?" Hermione asked, suddenly apprehensive of the plan. Whatever he was calling it – Plan B, was it?

_ "Ah yes, Plan B, since obviously I must 'BE' crazy!" _

"In the normal fashion of course," Draco scoffed, helping her slide off her seat, handing her, her handbag, "Unless you happen to know of other ways?"

"Are you suggesting that if such ways existed that I would know them?!" She hissed, her temper rising at his perceived insinuation that she was somehow a whore. Because, surely, that's why he was propositioning her like a common slag, and that was why he winked, and she should have known it!

A proposal like that, coming from a Wizard like him! And naturally, she brushed off the nagging feeling that it had nothing to do with the fact that an arrogant git like Malfoy could tell her marriage was doomed; he was just hateful little cur. Clearly, he was also suggesting that she was somehow lucky to attract any attention at all, what with having listened to her spill her guts only an hour ago about the prospect of becoming a divorced mother of two, complete with the non-existent sex life that went with being labeled as 'used goods'.

She really had a problem with labels, and the Wizard beside her was nothing if but a labeler, and the worst of the breed at that. What possessed her to ever talk to him?

Unaware of her inner turmoil, Draco happily straightened her out, helping her slip back into her work robes, and fastening the buttons for her. He was being quite gentlemanly, and again, it only served to unnerve her.

"Well, you are kind of a know-it-all," He smiled genuinely, "so you shouldn't be so surprised that your reputation has a way of preceding you."

"It does, doesn't it?" She sighed irritably, leveling a quiet glare at him.

"Don't worry," He soothed patronizingly, ignoring the sudden turn in her mood, "I never really bought into the idea of you really knowing all that much anyways."

She snorted, before heatedly whispering, "And then you want me to have my wicked _ways_ with you! With talk like that I'm beginning to wonder what the hell is it you think we're going to do!"

"Aw, I knew it, Granger!" Draco laughed, "I knew you'd know there was more than just the one way! And I bet you don't disappoint do you? But, I bet _I_ could teach you a thing, or a thousand, want to take that wager?"

"What I do know, and how good I am at doing it, will be none of your concern tonight, Sir." She said with a harried humph, before crossing her arms snugly under her bust, and refusing to follow him another step out of the tavern.

Eyeing her hungrily, like a wolf he supposed, Draco realized just then how badly he'd wanted her. But then again, a part of him always had, he'd just been good a keeping it hidden all this time. Not crossing paths with her often had only got him so far though.

"Do you promise to use that sort of tone in the bedroom? Because if you do, I have to say, I like the way you call me Sir." He winked again.

Draco had the night planned out. Hermione was going to give her address to him, he was going Apparate the two of them back to her flat, and once there, they would shag like angry bunnies. He'd already decided, and therefore it was going to happen. That's how these things went, he wanted it, it was his. She was free again, and he was well on his way to being liberated.

"I think I brushed you off, didn't I?" She hissed. "And you know why? Oh, because I just realized something - you're right!"

She laughed, snorting a little even at the absurdity of the situation. She came for a drink, not to become someone's pity fuck.

He simply looked at her flabbergasted. Was she actually saying he was right about something, and out loud, and in public where any ears could hear?

Ignoring the expected silence that followed, she continued, "Mark the day, Draco Malfoy, because I'm saying it now, you're right – I'm really not that smashed!"

"Does it really matter?" He scoffed, "I've decided, you decided, let's not ruin a good out-of-office collaboration because your prudish sensibilities have decided to kick back in."

"I'm not a prude!" Hermione ground out, upset that he used the very word Ron had when the two of them had finally called it quits.

"Then prove it!" Draco growled back. Clearly, the flush on her skin was being caused by more than just the liquor, she wanted him back too, he could tell, she was just being dense about her desires on purpose.

After years of having Witches make passes at him, he knew when one of them was interested. And if the fire in Granger's eyes happened to be predictive of the future, he was in for one hell of a time.

Without thinking she launched herself at him, kissing him forcefully. While snogging the senses out of him, she discreetly she slipped her hands into his robes to grope at his chest, before tweaking his nipples audaciously through the fine material of his oxford shirt.

With a low groan on Draco's part, she broke the kiss to stand back triumphant. A smirk now gracing her rosy lips, and the candlelight of the tavern now playing demurely off the blush of her cheeks, the surrounding glow saturating the curls framing her face – Merlin, she was a sight to behold!

"I think I'll need a bit more proof to go on, Granger. That exchange was far too brief to make any firm offers." Draco grinned dazedly.

"You're so greedy! Do you know what I do with greedy little prats like you?" She sneered.

"Take them home, and put their naughty little arses to bed, perhaps in your bed? It's just a suggestion." He said quite chipper, and with a careless shrug of his shoulders. It was slightly disconcerting for her.

"You really do just cut straight to the point, don't you?" She laughed; he really was looking so roguishly cute. Something was wrong with that thought, but she easily ignored it for now.

"And you're wife is walking away from you because why?" She asked, her voice dangerously close to being snotty.

"Low blow, I'm walking away from her, as you know."

"Right, tell me, how do I know she's not coming after me once she finds out that you've been digging some place other than in her garden?" Hermione snipped.

Her sobriety and reason fast returning, she'd guessed correctly that her tolerance had been building for some time now, no thanks in part because of how long her own divorce was taking.

Draco was intrigued that she was worried; it wasn't like they were cheating, not by Slytherin standards really.

"She's not really all that smart. She may dabble in megalomania, like some horrible hobby gone wrong, all sticks and glue, and glitter -loads of garish glint actually-" he groaned, "but she's too stupid to figure out that I'm the next big thing, and that you don't have to tear the world apart to be in power. And we've since long ago stopped being –" Draco trailed, intent on seducing his quasi-acquaintance with a feathery caress across the span of her soft cheek. " – Well, you know intimate, there's been none of that for the better part of a year. See you're not the only one – lonely, disappointed, looking for a little consolation from a friendly shoulder."

She shuddered at the touch, she maybe sobering up, but it wasn't that fast-acting, if she'd had all her faculties about her, she'd have suppressed the reaction to something so simple as a small meaningless caress from a Wizard like him.

"It's amazing to me that you'd even think that we could ever just do this." She mumbled. "Like you're seeing me for the first time as something more than what I have always been to someone like you."

"Oh, yeah. I can't have ever noticed you were a girl, could I?" Draco laughed, now she was just being amusing. She never did seem like the type to fish for compliments.

"Granger, I'd noticed your assets since Fourth Year. And, really, who hadn't by the time of the Yule Ball?"

"You're just really that superficial!" She balked; completely incensed that he was so infuriatingly dense, and self-centered.

"Omigod! You moron! I'm talking about your deranged Aunt torturing me! Your father setting the Basilisk loose by proxy of a madman's diary! I'm talking about you, Draco Malfoy, being the head of Umbridge's inquisitorial squad, capturing us, and aiding the really bad people, and power tripping just like you claim your megalomaniac wife is doing!" She balled her fists to her side, she could deck him.

"Ugh," she grunted disgustedly, "And your father again at the Ministry, no doubt aiming to kill a few of us that night. And then the tower! And Bill Weasley! And to a lesser extent Neville!" She huffed. "And just last week you sent me a missive that singed my fingers when it exploded into tiny bits after I'd read it, it even scorched my desk! Seriously, was cursed fire really necessary for a simple memo?"

"I'll buy you a new one. And because the document was classified, I'll even find a way to charge back the department. See, everyone wins here."

Her hands on her hips she let him have it. "When I said that you could think we'd do this, _ever_, I was saying there's a lot of history to overcome! I don't know if I can take this lightly. And I'm standing right here, albeit wobbly, and I'm still being rational. And hello – still quite intoxicated here! And you! You're apparently all-too-able to take this as flippantly as anything else that has ever been handed to you!"

"That's quite the mouth full." Draco remarked dryly.

"I know!" She grimaced, her hand coming up to brush the curls off her face, her eyes scrunched in frustration "Clearly, we're too drunk to be having this conversation."

"I think you mean the opposite." He smiled.

"Obviously, that you say that means that I am indeed too drunk!" She droned sarcastically, trying to pull her back into a ponytail. "You're just playing little word games now."

"But I thought you were ranting about history, and being rational." Draco said calmly, knowing just how to handle her.

"I don't know what I was saying!" Hermione hiccupped, her brows furrowed in thought.

"I see." Draco replied, his tone smug. It sounded too smug by Hermione's standards.

"You!" She raged, her voice on the verge of ranting again.

"Now, now." Draco smiled, being completely charmed by her uppity nature at the moment, always so quick to retort this one. Hmmm, maybe he was too intoxicated as well? That had to be a bad sign when one is charmed by something a tad brassy for one's otherwise pristine tastes, and said 'taste of brassy' happens to be a lot more intoxicated than you are, and goes on complaining about something, or other, being a very bad idea.

Or not, it was a very stupid thought. So he dismissed it.

"Don't you try to placate me! You blasted Slytherin!" She barked, pointing her finger again, as if that slender finger would shake all the things she had to accuse him of right out of her, each jab in his direction the start of a new reason that "he was this", or "he was that", or "why he was this and that, and another thing".

Pity, he needed to change her attitude. Smiling deviously, he applied the charm.

"Did you say, 'Blast you, come hither, then'?" He joked, his features looking very boyish in that moment.

Catching her hand, and kissing the open palm that laid pliant in his, he whispered, "Well, I will, but only if you let me, Hermione."

"You can't do that."

"Can't do what?" He asked innocently.

"You know what! Don't stand there and make with the puppy eyes! And the smirk, my Gods, do you stand in the mirror and work away at the muscle tone just so it stays sculpted like that?"

"You think it's sculpted?" He grinned.

"I really don't know what I'm going to do with you!"

"I have a few suggestions." His smile predatory again.

"Why can't you get a proper mistress, Malfoy?"

"Who said I wasn't trying, Granger?"

"That's it. I'm catching the Knight Bus, and – " She leaned in, her voice final, "I'm leaving!"

"Something I suggested." Draco said smugly, his grin the right kind of lopsided, "See, I do make good _suggestions_."

"Oh, now you're just being obvious for the sake of it!" She seethed.

Walking away from him to the door, she wanted to quickly escape. She realized that for anyone who cared to notice, she was making a scene, actually, _they_ were making a scene.

"Fine. Do you even have enough for the fare?" Came his mischievously voice from behind her.

"You better not have done what you seem to be implying!" Hermione shouted once they were outside. Turning to face him she was growing angrier by the second, she checked her handbag to see if her money was still there. It wasn't.

"And what is it I've done, now?" He drawled, checking his watch.

"If I do not have my coinage returned by the count of five, I'm going to do something so awful, it'll even singe your wife's perfect hair."

"That harpy?" Draco laughed, "Good luck shagging me that rotten, Granger, Merlin knows I certainly welcome you to try. Astoria's a frigid zombie in the sack, if you must know. But somehow I get the feeling you're far from being something so pathetic, and passionless as my soon-to-be ex-wife."

Her cheeks flushed. He certainly was being persistent bugger wasn't he? And a labeler, he was being that too, she mustn't forget that. Who only knows what he'd call her in the morning.

"Why do you have to be this way?" She whimpered, taking a defeated seat on the curb.

"I can't believe you're going to pin all the blame on me, look at yourself!"

"What!?" She asked outraged, and confused. Here was the prat who took her money when he was practically bathing in his own everyday, and to what end, to shag her? And was that really all he hoped to gain tonight?

Looking up at him she could see he was leering, which in her mind was the same sort of creepy as sneering. Wait, was sneering considered creepy? She was confused again. The spin cycle portion of the evening clearly was wearing off, but it seems the logic portion of brain function was still vacationing somewhere just beyond reach.

"You're the brightest witch of the generation, you figure it out!"

"Where the hell is that bus?" She tsked, changing the subject. "You know it's a shame Shunpike was a Death Eater, that bus never ran so timely as when he was apart of its operations."

"Oh, so that's how we're going to spend the rest of this time waiting?" Draco sighed, his voice aggravated.

"What?!" She bleated. She was the one who stomped out here, and she hadn't actually invited him out to join her, either. Of course, this time he really did have her confused, and then naturally the obligatory anger had settled in not far behind. He was insinuating something – she just knew it.

"Death Eaters, don't play stupid. It doesn't look believable on you."

"Oh, grow up." She was tired of his sore spot. Seriously, the way he went after Death Eaters now, no one would ever mistake him for being one.

"I have, and don't say you haven't noticed." Draco said smugly.

"So that's how you'll have us spending the rest of this time waiting!" She yelled. "News flash, Malfoy, I'm not all that interested at the moment. Come back when you're like, dead. I'd say wait till I was dead, but you'd probably find a way to kill me, and then rape my corpse just on principle alone."

He knew he should have been offended, but he laughed! Merlin help him, she had him in stitches. Wheezing for breath he laughed harder before he could control himself long enough to sputter rather ungracefully, "Don't! Gods, please! Don't flatter yourself!"

At the look of indignation on her face, he convulsed into another fit of giggles. Her shock pealing through her, she was outraged. "Are you _giggling_?"

"I don't giggle, I snicker."

"You giggled! Like a First Year with a Pygmy Puff!" She snorted, laughing as his face turned sour. "Oh, don't be so put out, it was almost adorable!"

Seizing his chance to play to her agreeable sensibilities, Draco added, "I supposed it could have sounded like a giggle to the untrained ear."

"Aw, does ickle Draky-kins get bashful when someone calls him adorable." She teased him.

"Oh, wait, don't flatter yourself!" She deadpanned.

"Touché." He gritted, he laughter gone now. She was not being amusing anymore, and if left unchecked, it was going to be a problem.

"Please, I'm becoming rapidly less inebriated, not stupid, Draco." She said with a note of authority in her voice.

"Clearly, you're becoming less inebriated." He rumbled, repressing the laughter that was fighting to break through again, as well as the urge to comment on her phrasing. Maybe there was nothing to worry about, she was back to being her charming little stuck-up self.

Unfortunately for Draco, he didn't realize he was being far too agreeable, in addition to sporting a very genuine-looking smile. She noticed these odd things, and then it clicked.

"Oh, you! I wasn't stupid to begin with, so therefore I can't become less of something I never was!" Hermione sniffed haughtily.

Looking at his watch again, he wondered how long he could repress the signal she was sending for the Knight Bus. He could only keep these security bubbles up for so long without his wand. And stealing her coin purse when he'd helped her with her robes had been only so good enough to get him started on the dampening spell when they'd walked out into the street. Her brief search through her handbag was all the chance he'd needed to be sneaky, but now he was running out time.

"I like you a lot better when you aren't being such a bitch, and instead being the lonely hearts welcoming committee." Draco sighed, breaking the tranquil that had settled over them. "I think I'd prefer hugs, and flower based accessories that get you laid."

"It's spelled l-e-i."

"Oh," He mused, "that makes more sense now. Actually, no it really doesn't."

"Did you ever take any lessons on Muggle cultures, ever, or maybe crack open a book on the subject?"

"I don't like your presumption, and unlike you, I wasn't aware that my reputation demanded I know everything." He snickered.

She was really amusing tonight; she had to have known he'd never done such a thing in his entire life. He'd shifted his opinion to not killing, and subjugating Muggles, as well as forgoing reordering the very fabric of Wizarding Society, but that was all he was willing to ever do, and really, wasn't that enough?

If he ever saw Deputy Minister one day, it would be to be the Minister's spokesperson to the public. The public being magical, ergo Muggles. And if he ever held the coveted role of Minister of Magic, he'd have departments to manage that kind of stuff so he wouldn't have to bother himself with it. He was good at delegating, his resume more than proved the point.

"So you really want to spend the night in my company do you?" She said after a few moments of silence between them. Her eyes shifting warily to his.

"Why am I out here if not to pester you into doing just that?"

"Want to come back to my place for a night cap then? I mean, I don't know about you, but I'm going to need a few more drinks."

"As well as I." He agreed.

"The more the merrier." There was a somber note to her voice.

"Indeed." He nodded sagely. Getting himself off was ok, _enough_, but having a hot Witch wrapped around his waist was much better. And he hadn't been much of a cheater, actually besides Astoria, and his own beautiful hands, it been a great long while since anyone else had touched him. Cheating was a good way to tarnish his public image, and short of a divorce, there was little way out of that clap trap.

He also he the opinion that Granger was not just any Witch. She was someone that didn't even really like him all that much, but if he convinced her to do this, then just for the briefest of moments he'd know she really didn't hate him. That she could let a person like him into her little world, a place he knew that all the money and power in this life would never win him entrance to, that would be a boost of self-esteem, and fulfill a fantasy he'd long harbored. Honestly, he couldn't help his vanity at times, but he'd accepted this about himself a long time ago.

"Ok." She pronounced after awhile. Leaping up to her feet, she commanded, "Apparate us back to my flat."

Wrapping her arms around him, she whispered her address into his ear, before giving him a brazen look that dared him to take to make good on his offer.

* * *

** A/N: For now I have this planned as two-shot. There's no beta either, this was something I was struck by randomly. I think it was Draco Malfoy's birthday this past week, let's dedicate the future smut to that, shall we?**


	2. Acquisitions

**Disclaimer: Ok, We know how it goes, no money being made here, believe me, and there is no copyright infringement intended. See, let's play nice and read the wonderful little story I've put together, ok? Also intended for mature audiences, under a certain age of viewing status where you live? Yeah, do me a favor and follow your laws.**

* * *

Acquisitions

* * *

"Granger, did you actually have it stuffed?" His brassy laugh called out ahead of her, she'd just opened the door to her flat when Draco waltzed through it.

"He's very much alive, Malfoy." Hermione droned. She noted that her candles, and fireplace flickered on as they had been charmed to.

She guessed she probably had a few hundred more entrances before she'd have to strengthen the charms again, pity tonight wasn't one of those nights where she would have been stuck walking to a black out, or a black hole. A black hole wouldn't be bad either.

Stepping around the orange puffball on the floor, both beast and man eying each other warily, Draco jabbed his thumb back behind him as he poked a bit of fun at the old thing's expense ""Apparently, look at it. Under all that fur something seems to be moving. You might want to check for maggots."

Ignoring Draco's hideous comments about her familiar, she trailed into her flat after him. Only stopping to scoop up Crookshanks in her arms.

She cooed with a higher pitch than necessary, "He isn't making a very good impression, my wittle Mr. Crooksies, is he?"

Squeezing the tubby smushed-face half-Kneazle to her, she sighed. Dropping the falsely chipper note, she talked to the old man, "He's not a very nice man. Yes, I know, what's he doing here you ask?"

Giving Draco a very sour once over, she turned back to the old man, "Honestly, Crooks, your guess is as good as mine."

Watching on with morbid amusement, Draco chuckled at the absurd way she spoke to the creature. "Why are you talking to it, it's probably deaf by now, and how couldn't it be after all these years of you talking to it with that screechy voice you seem to reserve just for the poor thing, do you really lavish everything you love in that – " his hand waving dismissively about, he paused, searching for the right term, " – manner?"

"Screechy?" She drawled with a frown, mimicking how he'd just said it, "No wonder you ended up with the wife you chose, as only a nut could actually find you pleasant! Seriously, you come in here and insult my beloved familiar, who I am sure you realize that I'm still lucky to have after all these years, and then you have the audacity to accept my hospitality as if nothing were wrong with your behavior."

"Are we calling it hospitality now, Granger?" Draco winked suggestively.

Turning her head in disgust, she ground out, "You're lucky I'm feeling too knackered to confidently levitate you out on your conceited arse. It would look so terribly bad for me to be associated with your unfortunate accident should I attempt it just now. But keep it up, and I might give it go, confidence be _damned_."

"Will you really?" Draco quipped, as he moved the picture frames on her mantel around, stopping every so often to pick one up, and examine it.

"I'm no worse than you telling off that Brown girl, all those years ago, over her dead little Mr. Hippity-Hoppity." He shrugged, leaning in, squinting at specific picture of her and her two children, "I mean if possible you made a little girl cry even harder over the loss of her little pet bunny. She didn't really need your encouragement you know."

"I was eleven, you self-absorbed man child! What's you're excuse?" Hermione said, fixing a glare upon the dashingly handsome man before her. Letting Crooks out of her arms to go pout somewhere in the kitchen, she stalked over to the seating area. She was furious, not that Malfoy would know, but the poor cat was an emotional eater.

Turning back to face her, the firelight in his eyes, he drawled, "I think you just diagnosed it, as you said, I'm a man-child." Smiling as he caught her frown, he added cheekily, "And apparently a very self-absorbed one at that!"

Snickering at the strangeness that was her life, Hermione fell back against the lounge, letting her limbs rest limp in the comfort of the downy cushions.

"I really don't like you. I can barely tolerate you even as smashed as I am," she gasped before her laughter turned into a quiet shudder of something he couldn't place as far as reactions went, whatever it was, she seemed to be looking inexplicably sad just then.

"Drinks, right." She said quietly.

At the sound of her sniffle, he sauntered up to her. "There, there, no need to go all mushy, Granger."

Patting her head affectionately, he whispered into her ear, "I only say I don't like you."

"That's hardly comforting, Malfoy." Hermione sniffed again, "It's twisted to say you dislike someone when despite appearances you do actually like them."

"All have you know, I've come to respect your opinions on occasion." He sighed, joining her on the lounge.

"Have you really?"

"Yes. That's why I don't mind drinking, and talking with you."

"Interesting reason to rank." She said, her eyes narrowing upon him.

"Isn't it?" He snorted.

"Enough to pester me into comforting you."

"Apparently." He murmured.

"Drinks? Crisps?" She offered getting up. Not looking back at him, she swayed towards the kitchen.

"I wouldn't say no to a bit of both!" Draco shouted, stealthily getting up to resume going through her things once he was sure she was occupied.

He noticed that she'd taken to drawing; well, that was the first safe hobby of hers he could approve of. The first few art journals happened to be from her early days in the medium, and he could see the mechanical nature in which she drew her subjects, the further he got on in the journals he noted that her precision at mastering technique was nearly flawless, but something was missing, it lacked passion. It was almost too perfect, and soulless.

Journal after journal reflected that, until very recently, there was a time in her life where she performed as was expected of her, flawlessly, but somehow it seemed to lack the heart. Very telling, he noted.

After going through the stack, he turned his attention back to the art portfolio laying open on the desk, the use of colors splayed across it's pages having been the original reason his attention had been drawn to this corner of her space. Not that her space was horrible, and dark, but this corner seemed to stand out from the others. It was just a little bit messy, but it was in a very subtle blending into the background type way. Very interesting.

The last journal, while not as prolific, was well on its way to becoming the work of a true master. Lines, shapes, colors, and technique met passion. There was order to the mad boundaries that defined negative space. While the light, and shadows were not perfectly balanced, they were artistically represented. The subjects had a style that united them in this journal. It was then he knew that it had a voice like its creator. He decided that he really like her, uh, _hobby_.

All the very things Astoria lacked, Hermione was. And what Granger did, she personified in everything she created. When the Gryffindor House decided to produce a genius, no wonder the world sat up and took note. He'd have to let her know about this eventually, but for now he held on to the knowledge, tucking it away for a day when he would truly need to call on it.

Rearranging her journals by preference, he didn't hear her come up behind him.

"So, I see you like to go through people's things in addition to robbing them blind. You really do have quite the future ahead of you as petty thief, or why not – an excellent politician." She conceded sarcastically.

Setting down a bottle of some imported beer for him, she whispered conspiratorially, "Just don't let them know your stealing their secrets, and you should be just fine!"

Turning back to her he winked, "Yes, well, politicians do often need to go about rearranging things for the greater good, thieves not so much." He shrugged. "They just rearrange the power of something to gain more for themselves, much like parasites. Selling off the important things in people's lives to benefit themselves. I don't often indulge in such petty pursuits. I make equal exchanges when they benefit those involved, and that's a massive difference in purpose."

"Yes, something is massive." Hermione droned warily, turning from him.

"Admit it, you just didn't like that answer coming from me." Draco snorted, amused by her again.

She didn't really like it when people rummaged through her things, but she couldn't help but notice that he'd rearranged the art journals in order of his preference. She had them stacked chronologically. Did he even realize what he was doing as he put them back?

Clearly, he was enjoying what he saw, unlike her soon-to-be ex-husband who wanted to talk Quidditch and balked at the idea of going out to various art events. She practically had to drag him to the one time something of hers was being exhibited, under a pseudonym of course, but it'd been very important to her. Not many people knew this side of her, a part of herself she'd been working on for years, and sharing it with Ron was meant to be something special.

Walking over to her lounge she set the bowls of crisps down, and set her bottle of hard perry cider in front of her. Leaning back on the plump cushions, her neck resting on the edge, she heard him still going through her things. She really ought to stop him, but then again, the only reason he was here was to shag her. How was her body a less personal space than her art desk?

"How long do you plan to be doing that?" She asked, throwing an arm over eyes. Honestly, he didn't think they were really that great, she was just sure.

"Oh, I've seen enough." His voice seemed to boom with close proximity, catching her off guard. He'd swiped her bottle from her, giving her another wink before tipping the contents back.

"Hard cider, Granger?" He laughed, mischief in his eyes as he picked up a few cheesy crisps, before washing them down with another tipping of her drink. Draco decided he liked her drink better. It wasn't as bitter as the other drink, it had nice crisp, sweet, dry, and light bitterness to it.

"How dare you! Now you've corrupted my bottle!" She seethed; annoyed that he'd just backwashed. "I gave you a beer I thought you'd like, all you had to say was 'do you have anything else', " she mocked in a low mannish voice that Draco decidedly thought was cute.

Pointing at him again she started in, "See, I don't even expect you to be polite about it, just that you at the very least have the decency to state something of a preference."

Laughing jovially, he quipped, "That's rich coming from you! You didn't even ask what I liked. You just assumed I wouldn't have preferred the same thing as you!"

She was frowning. Hermione wrapped her arms around herself, and gave the git a haughty glare; she was looking very much put out.

He snickered. "Oh, come on, surely you know there's a quick fix for it."

"What?" She quipped, thoroughly harassed.

"Today was not noted for being one of surprises, I may need to fire that Patil chit. Some personal Divinations Reader she's turned out to be." He mused to himself more than anything. Hermione looked up to see him giving her quite the unreadable expression.

"What are you on about?" She asked thoroughly confused.

"Well obviously, you conceded I was right back at the tavern, and now your acting like you don't know one of the simplest of vanishing spells." He stated very disbelievingly.

He knew her face was going to scrunch to one side like that, laughingly he added, "Honestly, Granger, remind me why growing up Muggle was such a benefit, because if you'd been raised by proper Wizards or Witches, you'd know that one of the very first spells invented came from parents being utterly disgusted by what messes their little ones made by mixing things up, magical or not. Backwash from one's young ranking high on the list, you're a parent, so you should know this, hell you should know this spell!"

"Well, guess what Malfoy, not everyone grew up knowing this _Backwash Charm_, or isn't that obvious yet?"

"I bet Weasley did." He crowed, snickering underhandedly.

"Yes, well Ron wasn't what I'd call a parent, as much as friend to our children." Hermione admitted sourly.

"Pity, when the smart ones mess up, they mess it up spectacularly." Draco smiled.

That really galled her! As if imitating a high society lady, such as his wife, Hermione quipped pretentiously, "Not that I'm saying you're smart, Draco, because really, you're not. But if you would be so good as to tell me again, wasn't it you who married a crazy woman with more ambition than the brains to pursue it?"

He glared at her, but she was beyond caring that he was staring her down.

Laughing she cackled, "And at what point did that cocktail of crazy seem like a good choice?"

"Well, yes," He conceded back tracking a little, looking flustered for a fraction of an instant, "But in my defense, I was formerly an evil genius." Before she could retort he beat her to it, this time he pointed at her accusingly, "I said formerly evil! And I'm still a genius! But now I direct those powers towards doing mostly good. And I'm sorry, but sometimes to really amuse yourself you have to accept the there is no such thing as good, clean fun. In any case," He pronounced, "I'm a Slytherin at heart, and so I can't help it."

She arched a brow at him; did he think she was going to accept an explanation like that?

Ignoring her, he continued, "Its innate in our nature – the thirst for power, the ultimate way to amusing ones whims for as long as one can hold on to it. I mean Ravenclaws are just Slytherins that are boring, with more intellectual morals than real world sense. And by that I mean your barmy little friend Loony. And the Gryffindors can be formidable in spirit, but lack the imagination to be cunning. They have passion but their grasp on their power is flighty at best. They don't know how to command it, and then they overload on it, doing something really brash, like running into Forbidden Forests after people."

"Why are we even talking about the past? About Hogwarts Houses at all, you're ruining my mood now." Hermione grimaced, trying to remember why she had thought he was a good enough choice from her list of options back at the tavern. Why the hell did she even choose the same dive as him, and then to linger on, only to find herself wrapped up in this mess. She had to get him out that settled it.

Clearing his throat, he gained her attention. She observed him guardedly as she thought of scenarios to get him up, and out the door.

"I tell you this," Draco said knowingly, "because you're what happens when you take those high intellectual morals, combine them with the passion to bravely see them through, and toss in a dash of real world mischievousness. You're a rare find, Granger, and you squandered many years with that freckled excuse for a fart."

"What about the Hufflepuffs?" She asked, with a sneer, "You forgot to mention a whole other house you arrogant prat!"

"You're not a worker bee anymore, Granger." Draco smiled at her genuinely. "Don't get me wrong, you're as loyal, and hard working as ever, but you've lost some of the mechanical nature. Believe me I've noticed."

"Was that a compliment, because it didn't really sound like one." Hermione huffed, looking pointedly at her bottle, and then up to the offending drinker in front of her again.

"Right," He drawled, annoyed that she wasn't getting it. "I can't believe you don't know this spell, everyone knows this spell, since they were in nappies that's how long they've known this spell!"

"Just clear out my beverage, thank you!" She ground out. "Not everyone grew up with the Tales of Beedle the Bard. And just so you know, its first very limited release has just made it to the Muggle world."

"Gods, this is what I'm talking about, such a lag in information and abilities – " Draco retorted condescendingly, before clearing out the bottle.

"Well, you don't have cell phones here, or the Internet, Malfoy," Hermione seethed, "But you don't see that holding back the Wizarding world. If the two could integrate think of the potential both sets of peoples would finally have access to. But oh, wait, those monkeys outside your little world are meaningless! Even though they out number our kind probably only just the thousands of them to the one of us, I mean, how do you lead a society when you blindly close your eyes to your neighbors, and to the powers they possess?"

_ " 'Our kind' she says.'"_ This phrasing of hers only served to make him excited. He was getting to see her inner most thoughts, and she probably had no idea how much she was telling him.

"I think, Granger." Malfoy grinned, a glint of shrewdness to his eyes, "That you are hanging out on the Ministry's Finance Advisory Board not because you like doing the numbers, but because you want to spread the power of money, and what it can do justly. Negative space needs its order doesn't it?"

"And I think you like hanging out in the Auror Department to rebuild your shattered reputation, Draco." Her voice level, and observant, "Going after Dark Wizards any way you get them, even going through their finances to see what kind of dirt you can get to stick to those pristine noses." She paused, pointing a finger at him, "And then going out there with only the type of fan-fair you know how to produce, you drag them to Azkaban after having just rubbed their noses in the very dirt you were aggressively burying them in before Harry, or some other Auror, manages to pull you off long enough so they can be arrested. Their names effectively Mud by the time you're through."

"Maybe." Was all he cared to answer; rather he opted to take a seat next to her. "You know, I don't see you having a problem with that when I've come to you for help for it."

"Yes, well," Hermione straightened up, looking at him seriously, "I don't think you're going to become Minister without some help."

That shocked him. Furrowing his brows good naturedly, he threw an arm around her, and smiled.

"What are you on about, Granger?" He laughed easily. Too easily in her opinion, did he really have insecurities about his ability to go to the top?

"That your wife is truly blind if she's been ignoring you this long." Came her simple reply.

He just looked at her completely staggered, blast the Witch! She stunned him as effectively as if she had pulled her wand on him, and had shouted Stupify. It creeped him out as much as it turned him on. And then he just felt very small for a while.

There was a slight smile of admiration on her. It was amazing to him that she saw all that. They sat there in a comfortably drunken silence; he was still smirking to himself when she cut through his thoughts.

"Well, I did like kissing you." Hermione added thoughtfully after a few moments, "That part definitely wasn't bad at all."

"Yeah, it was something wasn't it?" Draco grinned slightly, twirling his finger in a loose dark curl that hung off her shoulder.

She shot him a look out of the corner of her eye; she did notice he'd grown up. Truthfully she'd noticed that about him the first time their careers crossed paths.

There were new dimensions to him that rounded out all those points, finishing him off quite smoothly. Even a blind woman would know his kind of beauty just by laying hands to him. His only flaw seemed to be that he was colored far too grey. Well, she would rub a shine to him; with her help he would be spotless. He wasn't some dusty flea market find, but her new acquisition would need her help, and he was smart enough to know it.

"Do you want to know a secret, Granger?" Draco whispered, bring his lips upon her neck.

She could only mumble a drowsy response. Gods, how his soft lips felt against her skin – against her pulse!

"I've always been a bit jealous of Krum."

"Him?" Disbelief and curiosity lulling her out of her lustful stupor long enough to verbalize.

"Why not him?" Draco countered, nipping along her jaw to just under her ear. "Went to Durmstrang, where I should have went had my mother permitted it. Was a star Quidditch player before leaving school, what I wanted to be. And he'd noticed you, just like I had. And then he took you to Yule Ball, and you kept him on as a friend, neither of those things I've ever done."

"What?" She moaned, "You can't be serious." Her fingers undoing his robe, before helping him slide out of it.

"I'd noticed you long before Krum ever did. And at the World Cup, that night, you looked – " He breathed hotly, "that's when I saw what you would turn into. My warning aside that night, I think I should have liked to have seen you dangling there in your knickers."

His hot breath tickling her neck with his confession while his hands caressed down the nape of her neck, before his fingers trailed between her shoulder blades, he was doing a good job of getting her worked up.

She gasped; he'd sunk his teeth into the crook of her neck.

"Mmmm – Granger, why didn't I make more of an effort before?" Draco rumbled.

"Bad timing?" She whispered, completely enthralled, "Not that the timing is good now, but we'll play this out just the once, yeah?"

He smirked, and nuzzling against the curve of her cheek. He whispered, "I have a feeling that you'll want to indulge me more often than just the once, you truly have no idea what I'm like when well cared for."

Catching her hands, Draco brought them up to their chests, a hard look in his eyes. "I meant it, you may think ill of me all you want later, but I just don't confide in any random Witch. It's not very smart."

"Is that code for something, Malfoy?" Hermione smirked. "I think I'm grown enough to handle all the confidence you want to place in me. This is a little fling after all."

"I can't do this." Draco said winded, was she really to smashed to handle what he was saying? She seemed to be sobering up just fine not a moment ago.

"You can't just annoy me, get me riled up, and then flake out!" Hermione gasped.

"I don't want just some fling, Granger. I'm not interested in that self-serving type of sex tonight. I've had over 12 years of marriage with nothing _but_ random passionless flings, _and_ that's only with my wife. Sex for the sake of fulfilling some wedding oath, who'd honestly want that?"

"Apparently you did." She countered, pulling him towards her.

Why was he being petulant about this? As far as she could tell he never had actually said that _he_ wanted to keep doing this beyond just the one time. After all, he said that it was she who would want to indulge him more than once, which could mean what they were doing now, and he admitted he hadn't cheated on Astoria, but he didn't say he was going to stop with seeing other people after herself.

Letting her draw him in, he smirked, "I obviously didn't know what I really wanted then, did I? If I'm so unhappy now, then maybe that's not what I'm after, if you catch what I'm throwing out."

"Ok, so I've caught it, what if I throw back a second?" She chuckled, her laughter growing deeper. "What if I told you I've always thought you kind of sexy?"

At her playful admission, he kissed her softly again, before deepening it. Breaking apart to help her out of her blouse. She blushed under his gaze, his face thoughtful as he undressed her, one item at a time.

"You know, you really are dashing." She smiled, as he pushed her skirt up to finger the sides of her knickers teasingly.

"Compliments will not make me go faster if that's what you're aiming for." He smirked.

"All talk so far, Draco, and we're no where near my bed yet." Hermione sighed, as he began slipping the fabric down her hips.

"Who says we need a bed? And why do you have to say 'my' bed, it could just be 'the' bed, you know?" He questioned playfully, hoping to distract her long enough to get her knickers off.

"What!" She rasped. "Do you plan to do this in my living room, because someone could floo in unannounced!"

"At three in the morning and for what, someone forgot to balance a spreadsheet that will either doom or save the world?" He laughed, triumphantly getting her to rise, to slide the lacy things down her thighs.

"It could happen." She huffed, her bottom sinking back down into the cushion.

"Well, then let that be a lesson to them for disturbing you on Friday night, instead of taking care of it before work let out." Draco said, lifting behind her knee, he raised her calf to slide the fabric off.

"Saturday morning." She corrected absent-mindedly, "I guess I could close my Floo, now. Do you plan to stay for breakfast?"

"What's the occasion?" He asked suspiciously, he was halfway through repeating the same steps as before to completely remove the knickers.

"I meant do you want to stay all night. Take a hint." She snickered, throwing her head back to enjoy what he was doing to her inner thighs. Gods, he could say the meanest things, and his tongue was soft and wicked, just like rose. So velvety smooth, like the petals, but could it turn on you when showing you its thorns.

"Obviously. Now in order for me to having you spinning desire, and weeping sex, I'm going to need you to remove these." He whispered lazily.

Slowly getting up he emphasized what he meant. Putting his hands in his pockets, and jingling his pocket change he winked at her again.

"And if I'm insubordinate?" Hermione challenged, his wink still unnerving her.

"I'll spank your Gryffindor arse." he countered. "And Granger, these slacks aren't going to remove themselves."

"And if I bind you?" She asked softly, a tinge of feigned innocence laced into the question. She knew that she could do it to him before he'd even know what had hit him.

"Then you may, with my permission of course, spank my Slytherin arse." He offered with yet another wink, not the least bit shy about his preferences.

"Did I mention how crazy this is yet?" Hermione scoffed; laying back in the lounge she felt she discovered something profound, and life altering, before she announced quite astonished still, "I've finally found your tell."

"What is that, a Muggle thing?" He mused, trying to get her hands to come up to his belt.

Giving him a goofy grin she was secure in the knowledge that any time he winked jokingly, he was being honest about something naughty or was about to do something naughty. The world off its axis, she just discovered something about Draco Malfoy, she was sure he didn't even realize about himself, and he was a vain little bugger.

"The grinning is unnerving me, Granger." Draco said warily.

Smiling something sultry, she gave him a smoldering gaze, before reaching up to really work on undoing his clothes. "Did I mention just how winsome you can be, Draco?"

"Save the babbling praises of wonderment for the finish, Hermione." Draco smirked, pulling her towards him, had he the good sense he might have clung to his wariness a bit longer, but being a little more than tipsy made him bold, rash even, "When I'm between your thighs, and you're damn near mute, then you tell me how good I am."

She would have found something witty to toss back, but he really was breath taking. Gods, Ron was never that self-possessed, and oh how she did like a man who knew what to do with his partner.

Her hands on his chest, she slid her fingers down, trailing over his lines. She knew exactly what she was going to do to him.

Draco sighed under her touch; it was light, exploratory, and yet experienced with a hint of sinful knowledge. She noted reactions, and then she manipulated them. What the fuck had Weasley been thinking when he'd cheated on his sex kitten of a wife? Clearly, other women need not apply when you had a minx at home like this.

Hermione wasn't even to his navel yet, and he was beyond excited, for what he really wanted in that moment was to spend all of existence luxuriating under that sort of languid but calculated touch.

She grabbed his waist, and kissed just above fabric of his trousers, teasing him with the promise of more to come, when she felt the length of him jerk towards her. All the power in the world suddenly washing over her, she fluidly unfastened his trousers.

When the tip of his cock came into sight, she gave it a slightly parted kiss, smirking when it jumped again. Control, now she had it, and he was rigid with anticipation.

She caressed the rigid proof that Draco Malfoy was currently at the mercy of her very talented hands. Saucily catching his eyes, Hermione added, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was your first time, Draco."

He blushed, "Fucking hell woman, no talking. Just do whatever it is you intend to do, but with less words."

"Aw," She mock pouted, "Now, you talk like that, and you might just send me the wrong signal."

"You wouldn't dare!" He gasped, glaring at her. She could tell he wanted to move, but knew that if he did it would possibly end what was unfurling now.

"Mmmm – you don't know do you?" She grinned; it was beginning to unnerve him.

Smiling at Draco, she moved down onto its tip, her tongue swiping it experimentally before giving it a very soft bite, after the slight nip, she let her lips kiss against his flesh soothingly.

"Bloody – ugh!" Draco cried exasperatedly. "You minx!"

"Oh, you have no idea." Hermione laughed heartily. This caused his cock to jump again. She then went all the way down on it, before coming up to encircle the tip with a lushy swish.

"No," He said resolutely, sliding out from under her. "I want to try something experimental."

"Oh, Gods" Hermione sighed, "I knew this was going to be a bad idea."

"Have some faith witch. You should know I studied quite a few texts trying to crack the icy hull that is my wife's shell, and I'm thinking if I'm working with the right medium, that is to say with the proper woman, I'm sure the techniques I've spent so long mastering will be immensely enjoyable."

"Just promise it won't hurt." She gulped, she was lust driven and vulnerable, she knew this, but the way he said it made her think giddily, _ "Just promise it won't hurt too much."_

"Not unless you want it too." He grinned. "Now come here."

She complied, sitting up and moving over to him hesitantly. Grabbing her hands, he moved to sit down, before then he pulling her into his lap, "Straddle me."

She complied, finding herself in a hot passionate kiss with him soon after she did. He was glad he'd not finished completely unwrapping the thrilling woman atop him. Her skirt pushed up to her waist, her bra straps practically falling down, the stockings still on, yes, it seemed much more indecent this way.

Running his hands up her thighs, he dugs his fingers into her hips teasing her as he rubbed his cock against her entrance. This earned him a throaty moan as she leaned back, taking this opportunity, his hands left her hips, and traveled to her waist just before they were upon her breasts. Yanking the front down without a care for the garment's integrity, he ardently suckled, massaged, rubbed, tweaked, and nipped at her silky and responsive breasts, his tongue manipulating the fine tips of her nipples.

Not to be out done, she accepted that he was particularly skilled in making a witch feel wanted, but as he worked at her, she ground against him. Letting him know just how wet he was making her. She sighed as he moaned with need, his mouth still latched to her pert nipple. It was the kind of rumble that made tingles rush down her spine, and pool in her belly.

Curling up from her slightly reclined position, she sat in his lap now, still gyrating ever so slowly. Her hands found his jaw and she promptly brought his attentive mouth to hers.

Their tongues explored the taste of each other, sweeping, dancing, and enticing the other to submit just long enough to let the feelings the other was trying to inspire come to the forefront.

He bucked up, unconscious as to what his hips were doing. Her hands fisted in his silvery hair, mussing it up, as she clung to him. Her lips swollen, and full she descended upon his neck. So strong, the lines on him, her teeth nipped at his throat, and his rumbling response tickled against her lips.

One of his hands now massaged at her breast, tweaking the nipple every so often to get her to rise with his slight pinch of manipulation. Gods how she responded, gasping and biting her lower lip, while grinding wildly into him! Teasing each other madly, the frenzy mounted.

"Inside, now!" She whispered feverishly, her brows furrowed as he pawed at her. Slipping his hand between them, he rubbed against her opening. His fingers slipping into her to tease her, and she groaned lusciously, but under all the sounds of pleasure there was a hint of frustration.

"Be more specific." He mumbled into her neck.

Her breath hot on the shell of his ear, she growled, "I want you inside me."

"More specific?" He quipped. "You want what part of me inside you exactly?"

He thoroughly enjoyed teasing her. Not rising to his bait, her hand swept his out of the way, her fingers under his cock, she slipped him in, before she pushed it down the length of him. Gasping, her head came to rest at his collar; riding him languidly she thoroughly enjoyed the Wizard between her thighs. His own light panting added to the chorus of mutual appreciation.

His hands found her hips again, and he rocked them back, and forth, the friction building between them. Her gasps became raspy pants, and any time she moaned into his collar, it only served to drive him harder.

She could level him emotionally, but he would show her dominance sexually. A woman like her craved the feelings her was inspiring in her. She wanted to feel sought after, as if her body was a thing to be worshiped, and her entire being a conduit to heady pleasures.

His hips were leaving the soft cushions below them, thrusting powerfully now. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she held on, as his hands dug into her, grabbing onto her hips, and thighs. She'd never felt such desire in a partner. His every move affirmation that he wished nothing more than drive them both over the edge. They had even fit together perfectly, his cock fitting beautifully, while her clit rubbed against him friction, they had it.

Desire had completely unfurled within her, and now curled back up on itself, coiling tight in her lower half, sending a message through a complex path of nerves that made her limbs go rigid. Her moans grew louder, and she thrashed against him, grinding against Draco until he too couldn't stop from rasping in with the extra exertion.

And then the world exploded, it went black, and then in the next breath her eyes opened unseeingly, beneath her he was following in close pursuit, his face drawn in concentration, and with pleasured pain, her orgasm was drawn out as she felt a type of bliss she had not quite ever experienced before.

She thought he'd follow soon behind, but he surprised her by stopping. "We're not quite done yet," His smile feral, "Hold on, yeah?"

It wasn't much of question, as much as a quick direction. In a fluid movement, he launched them from the lounge, her eyes where wide with wonderment. Butterflies flew crazily about her belly.

Without words, he helped her stay on him by gripping her thighs to his waist, she moaned as he resumed his attentions.

He jostled her lightly, as he tried to figure out where the bedroom was. Catching a glimpse of the door to her room, he repositioned his grip under bum, and kissed her as he cautiously made his way to the room.

"What are you doing, you mad, mad man?" She huffed, her sense of her surroundings coming and going.

"Taking you on the bed." He rumbled, "Properly."

"Oh." Was all she could whisper before he elicited another soft hum from her.

His muscles strained with the effort, but he'd managed to get them into her bed. Her bum at the edge, and her thighs wrapped around his waist, he kissed teasingly before showing her his real power.

If she thought she'd hung on to dear life on her lounge, she was about to be sorely mistaken. Gaining purchase against the bed, he used his leverage to pound into her furiously. Building the slow burn of friction to intense pleasure almost to the point where it became nearly blinding.

Her wore her out, her thighs began slipping from his waist as she came again, each powerful stroke hitting her just right. Each of his hot wet kisses against her collar, her neck, her throat, between her breasts, on her breasts, everywhere he was on her, in her, clinging to her like a dying man to life, all of it causing her to arch tightly. If she didn't think it was possible before now, it was much to her delight to discover just how loudly she could scream.

Gods how he couldn't last with her writhing like that against him, and that deeply pleasured scream she just gave him was everything he desired to hear from a woman, and that it came from her lips made it the reward all the much sweeter. Her hands were on his nipples, expertly tweaking them as she moved her legs to encircle his waist again.

Minx being the only word he could think of properly.

Running her hands through his hair again, she held him close. One hand lushly stroking his hair, his face, his throat, and the other gripping his shoulder tightly, he was so close, she could feel his skin prickle. Using his whole body he thrust deeply, wildly, heatedly, and as the tingle of desire spread out, a familiar tightening coiled until the snap came about with a shooting flash, it radiated through ever fiber of his being.

Groaning exasperatedly, he felt her fingers dig into him, and her breath panting hotly against his throat. He almost couldn't breathe, the intensity awash throughout him, he become stock-still. Without looking, as if there were a need to, he felt the hot stickiness between them seeping out. Pushing languidly a few more times, he leaned down to kiss her gently. They were tired, pleasured, and breathless.

Still connected, he pushed her up into her bed, before leaning on her. He was still panting from the effort. She in turn was amazed that he could want to be wrapped up in her still. He got what he came for, and yet he was still there. Would the shock never end? That, and the reality outdid the fantasy, but she wasn't so sure that part was shocking.

His forehead on her chest, he grunted, "I like eggs, toast, and tea. And I loathe reading The Prophet."

She smiled, gazing down at him, "Noted."

* * *

In the morning she'd been giddy to discover him still there. And although it must have seemed a shade obsessed, she couldn't help but to admire him that morning in, still in her bed sleeping. She sighed at the memory. Memorizing his "Draco shaped lines" as she now affectionately referred to them, she was oddly happy, and she noted with wry amusement that she was acting possibly down right school-girlish.

She was in the kitchen directing the teapot to boil, and the eggs to flip with a twist and turn of her wand. She lost to her thoughts, thoughts that centered on the naughty blond tangled up in her sheets currently.

The toast popping out of the toaster, she levitated it to the table, and a crock of butter soon followed it. Jam, teacups, knives, forks, plates, spoons, napkins, all of the normal breakfast cast members marched in the air to the table. She caught herself smiling again, and for the love it all, she couldn't stop. He was going to take the piss out of her if he walked in now. She was sure she looked too easily smitten.

Her thoughts back on him, as if they had a chance to stray, she wondered how was it he wasn't joining her yet? Did the lazy little Ferret really sleep in that late?

With their breakfast waiting on the table, charmed to stay warm, she decided to go wake him up. Smirking to herself as she pulled her hair back into bun, she was unfastening her satin night robe, when she walked into the bedroom. It wasn't till she got it opened, and was slipping it off that she noticed he wasn't where she left him. Instead of shrugging the material off, she drew it tightly around her now. She had a feeling he might do this.

She was livid now. Not even the courtesy of a good-bye! What the hell had she been thinking? He'd got what he came for; the least he could do was be honest about it, not give her directions for a meal he never intended to dine on.

It was then an owl flew in. His owl to be specific.

She wasn't sure she wanted to read anything he had to say. Well, she just had to confirm that he was an arse one more time before she could move on. That seemed like a reasonable excuse to open the missive.

The eagle owl didn't even wait for a treat, or penned response. As soon as she had unfastened the parchment from it's talon, it was off.

She scoffed out loud, "Even the bird!"

She shook her head that even the damn owl was just like him, a damned owl dismissed her! How low could you get as far as morning-afters went?

Huffily reading the parchment she expected something patronizingly conceited and hateful.

_And a good morning to you lover,_

_Went to secure my divorce today. Decided I couldn't wait, and my prenuptial clauses should help me loophole my way to freedom. You'd be surprised what being a money-laden Auror with a formidable reputation can do on a Saturday! Hopefully you'll want to find out later. I'd say sorry about breakfast, but I have a feeling that you'll figure out something to do with it. Let's say lunch, this attorney's office is quite boring, and I intend to be out by then. Lunch wasn't a suggestion by the way._

_Yours_

_"Braggart"_ She thought wryly. He didn't even sign his name, the arrogant arse!

She'd have to invite Ron over now; well at least she knew what to do with breakfast. Leave Malfoy to his loop-holes, she was going to ply her very-soon-to-be-ex with food, and get him to sign those damn papers today, even if she had to potion the offering a bit to secure his speedy signature.

* * *


End file.
